


Scaffolding and Lace

by Katalyna_Rose



Series: Vhenan and Associated Stories (Lyna Lavellan) [24]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Masturbation, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Smut, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 03:31:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11455089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katalyna_Rose/pseuds/Katalyna_Rose
Summary: She writhes in pleasure and the images are burned into his mind. Did she mean to be seen? Did she mean to leave a gift for him as she left hard as stone and aching for her?





	1. Scaffolding

Lyna was exquisite. That was the only word for her. Solas had been enamored with her almost since he first met her, enraptured by her beauty and grace and compassion and intelligence. Yet she was more than that. There was something sinful about her hips and the way she could move them. She tested the very outer limits of his control almost daily.

He was trying so hard to stay distanced from her, to keep their relationship about the Inquisition. Thus far, he had failed rather spectacularly, culminating in his confession of his love for her only that afternoon.

He’d asked to speak with her in order to compliment her on her wisdom and perseverance and attempt to sort out what he felt and how to push her away again. Instead, she had all but run circles around him, forcing him to admit to them both that she was unique and he loved her beyond all reason. He’d left in a daze, hardly able to believe what had just happened, his heart pounding in his chest from the taste of her lips. He wanted more the second he was away.

It was keeping him awake. He couldn’t sleep and so he’d made his way to the rotunda to continue working despite the fact that it was well past midnight and all of Skyhold was sleeping. Not a soul was about within the castle, though sentries always patrolled the walls. He needed another book and went up to the second floor to the library to search for it.

A soft moan drew his attention and he frowned. He glanced about and saw no one, and returned his attention to the bookshelf. Another moan, louder this time, made him scowl and stalk to the railing to look down over the rotunda. And there she was.

He hadn’t heard a thing, hadn’t heard the door open and shut or her steps on the ladder, but Lyna was sprawled out on the scaffolding that stood in front of his latest mural. She wore nothing but achingly small underclothes and a filmy robe that was currently open. The gauzy material only served to accentuate her curves, how her waist dipped in before flaring out to those sinful hips, how her breasts were perfect round globes, how her strong thighs taped to muscled calves.

She was writhing on the scaffolding, her hands on her breasts. She pulled down her breast band to bare herself and let out another of those beautiful breathy moans. Solas thought he might faint as she plucked at her own nipples, head thrashing in the pillow of her white hair. Then one hand slid down her toned belly to dip into her smalls and her breathless moan was louder this time.

He was hard as a rock in his trousers and knew he needed to turn away. She didn’t know he was there, likely thought all of Skyhold was asleep and she was alone with her pleasure. But he felt rooted to the spot, couldn’t move at all. He couldn’t even blink as he watched, internally begging her to take off her smalls entirely so that he could see the way she worked herself.

As though she’d heard his thoughts, she did exactly that, lifting her hips to push the material past them. She kicked them off and they landed at the edge of the scaffolding beside the ladder. Then she spread her legs and he nearly came from the sight. He was at exactly the right angle to see everything, the way she glistened in the light of the wall sconces, the way her folds parted for her fingers. She dipped two inside, pumping slowly, her lips parting around her breaths. Then she brought the digits, dripping wet, to tease at her clit. With her other hand she continued to play with her breasts, squeezing the flesh and thumbing her nipples, first one and then the other.

Her motions were slow, almost lazy, as she circled her clit with dripping fingers before dipping them back inside her. Her eyes had remained closed this whole time or she surely would see him and likely attempt to murder him for watching her pleasure herself as he was. It was lewd, crude, disrespectful and unworthy of him. But he couldn’t move, like she’d cast a spell to paralyze him even though he knew she was no mage. He couldn’t move even to take himself in hand, though the sight of her pleasuring herself had him leaking a steady stream of precum in his trousers. He still hadn’t blinked.

She began to speed up, pressing her fingers hard into her clit and plunging them as deeply as she could inside herself. Her other hand fell off her breast to twitch beside her head, fingers curling helplessly as her pleasure rose steadily. She was breathing hard, soft moans nearly constant, and Solas wondered if he would orgasm when she did simply from watching her writhe beneath him on the scaffolding.

“Solas,” she breathed, and his cock twitched. He swallowed hard, just barely preventing a spontaneous orgasm. She drove him wild, her breast band pulled down around her ribs, her panties somewhere off to the side, her robe open and pooling around her body, her face delicately flushed with pleasure, the tips of her sharply pointed ears red. He wanted so badly to simply vault over the railing, replace her fingers with his lips on her body, and take her until dawn. He wanted her writhing like that for his touch, sinful hips stretching up to beg for his cock inside her. He wanted to watch himself disappear within her hot, wet sheath and hear her cry for him.

“Ahh, Solas,” she moaned, expression tensing with her pleasure. She was close, and he wanted to taste it. His mouth was dry, his cock hard as steel and weeping for the warm embrace of her body. She concentrated her attention on her clit, knees drawing up to spread herself wider, her free hand all but flailing beside her head as she reached for something to hold on to, to ground herself, and found nothing but the flat surface of the scaffolding.

Suddenly, her violet eyes flashed open and instantly found his. In his shock, he even stopped breathing, completely certain that she would scream or curse him or at the very least cover herself. She did nothing of the sort. She grinned at him, then her mouth fell open wide in pleasure as her peak overtook her. She moaned for him, his name over and over like a prayer on her lips as she came on her own fingers, her eyes locked with his for long moments until the pleasure was too much for her and they slid closed again. She writhed and twisted her body around the waves of sensation, head thrashing, and the display of her pleasure was too much for him.

He was finally released from his paralysis as her orgasm ended and she began to breathe her way back to herself. He stumbled back into the bookcase behind him and panted for breath, dizzy with arousal and the blind need to plunge into her waiting depths. She would be hot and so wet as her body yielded to him, he knew. He could slip in with ease, her body clenching around him so perfectly. She would finish him in a moment. Maybe less.

He stayed where he was, but it was only a few moments before he had to move, to see her as she recovered and ask her why she’d done such a thing there, if she’d known he was watching. He wanted to ask her forgiveness for spying on her private moment. He wanted to have sex with her. But when he reached the railing again, the scaffolding was empty of beautiful elves writhing in pleasure. She had left as silently as she had arrived and he groaned at the loss.

Then he noticed that she’d left her panties right next to the ladder where they’d fallen.


	2. Lace

There would be no more work that night, not after such a display. Solas was weak in the knees, his cock throbbing fiercely for release, and he quickly retreated. At the door out of the tower, he stopped, then groaned at his own idiocy as he went to the scaffolding and snagged her panties. He stuffed them in his pocket as he made a quick exit. He retreated to his room, which he only used to sleep and store his spare clothing. It was tiny, had probably once been a closet, but he didn’t care since he spent the vast majority of his time either in the field with Inquisitor Lyna Lavellan or in the rotunda with his frescoes and his research and often with his vhenan. He liked the room because it reminded him not at all of the past and it was isolated, quiet.

He’d need the isolation more than ever now, he knew. He stripped off his tunic and lay on his bed, barely more than a cot strewn with furs, and rolled onto his back. Carefully, he untied the laces of his trousers and eased the fabric past his straining shaft, hissing at the nearly painful stimulation. His smalls were sticky with all the precum he had already produced just from watching Lyna pleasure herself, but he ignored it as he eased them past his hips.

He grabbed her panties out of his pocket and realized that they were unlike what she was used to and what she preferred. They were sheer white lace, the sort of undergarment a woman wore to please a lover, probably something that had magically appeared in her wardrobe courtesy of Josephine or Vivienne, and he groaned. He wondered, his first clear thought since he’d first spied her on the scaffolding, if she’d staged it. He wondered if she’d _known_ he’d be awake and trying to work and if she’d dressed for him in the sheer white lace and gauzy robe because she’d known how much he loved her in white and had pleasured herself in that spot because she’d known he could see her. He recalled the way her eyes had snapped to his just a moment before she orgasmed and the lustful grin she’d flashed before being consumed by pleasure. She must have known he was there or she wouldn’t have continued, surely.

Oh, but that was a dangerous thought, one that made him moan as another drop of precum formed on the tip of his cock, that she _wanted him_ to see her like that. She had to know what she did to him, how she drove him wild with lust. He’d already almost come for her without ever so much as brushing his palm against himself through the fabric of his trousers. She could undo him with a look, destroy him with a single touch.

He kept her panties gripped in one hand and reached the other down to stroke slowly up his length. He moaned and shuddered, so close already, and wrapped his palm around himself. With a thumb, he gathered the beads of moisture at the tip, shuddering in ecstasy at the stimulation, and spread them across the crown and lower. He bucked his hips into his fist.

“Lyna!” he called out, the image of her body spread out in offering on the scaffolding clear in his mind. He would be finished quickly, the pleasure too intense to ignore. He could not hold out against this.

He bucked his hips against his palm, imagining her plump lips and sweet little tongue stroked him rather than his own hand. His other hand moved restlessly across his fistful of lace as his strokes quickly grew as frenzied as his need for her. He realized after long moments of thoughtless pleasure that the part of the cloth that had rested between her legs, against that perfect and glistening part of her that he so badly needed to taste, was damp. Her glorious wetness had dampened the cloth before she’d discarded it.

He was far past the point of reason, had long since forgotten why he shouldn’t indulge, why it was wrong and crude of him to do this. He was so close to orgasm, on the cusp of what promised to be some of the greatest pleasure he’d ever known, and _he didn’t care_. He brought the fist full of lacy cloth to his face and breathed deeply of her scent. It exploded in his nose, lustful and feminine and sweet. _Her scent._ He was finished.

“Lyna! Oh, _Lyna, yes!”_ he shouted, coming hard. His semen lashed his chest all the way to his chin, hot and mindnumbingly pleasurable. His hips strained up, his fist pumping, pulling every drop of pleasure out of him, her image in his mind and her scent in his nose. His mouth was open in a silent scream and he suddenly tasted something thick and salty and slightly bitter but ignored it as he arched his entire body off the bed in pleasure.

It seemed to go on forever, but finally he was spent. He collapsed onto his bed, panting and shaking, his need only slightly abated for the moment. He knew the lust for her would rise again, stronger than ever. And with the view she’d given him on the scaffolding, he would have nearly endless variations of pleasure to imagine in excruciating detail. And it would never be enough, fantasies of her only taking the edge off his need, each taste and view of her body that she gifted him only making him want more. She could undo him with a _look._

Finally he managed to catch his breath and opened his eyes, needing to clean up, needing to hide her panties somewhere safe for later. And he realized what that strange flavor had been.

He had come so hard after she pleasured herself for him that a jet of his semen had made it into his own mouth. His spend covered his chest up to his chin and beyond, and a quick swipe at his lower lip revealed that he had indeed come in his own mouth. He groaned and lay back again.

She was going to be the death of him if she could make him come so hard he tasted it when she wasn’t even there to touch him. He’d never survive her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @enchanted-pheonix and @sonicjen on tumblr asked for part two. Ask and you shall receive, my loves! :D


	3. Mercy

Lyna breezed into the rotunda at an hour past dawn, just as she always did, looking refreshed and rested. Solas, on the other hand, hadn’t slept a wink and probably looked as exhausted as he felt. Lyna smiled at him exactly as she did every morning, no telltale blush or dark circles under her eyes to speak of her late night. She deposited a steaming mug of hot cider on the desk in front of him as she leaned down to give him a chaste kiss on his brow. Unable to help himself, he snagged her chin between his thumb and forefinger and dragged her down to his lips. She hummed happily, her smile in their kiss, and he had to fight the urge to pull her into his lap and rut on her. He let her go before he did something stupid and buried himself in the cup she’d gifted him.

“Ma serannas,” he muttered into the hot liquid, letting it chase away the morning chill that clung to all of Skyhold. It had been kind of her to bring him something hot, but he couldn’t help but wonder what it meant. It was an unusually cold morning, true, and she often came to the rotunda with a tray of breakfast or a pair of mugs, but he remembered last night and questioned yet again if she’d known what she did.

“On dhea, vhenan,” she greeted with a smile as she snagged his research notes on the rifts off his desk to get caught up on what he had compiled.

“On dhea,” he returned, decidedly with less cheer. He watched her closely, but she acted exactly the same as ever, as though nothing at all had happened. Perhaps she hadn’t been aware of his presence. Perhaps the shadows in the tower had hidden him from her view and he’d only thought she’d looked at him.

He had lain awake all night and lost count of how many times he’d brought himself to orgasm with his own hand. Each time he thought he was sated, the memory of her wicked grin and sinful writhing and the scent of her on her panties had stirred him back to life. He’d tried to ignore it a few times, but it had only grown painful as he tried to distract himself and utterly failed. Inevitably, he’d taken himself in hand again to relieve the aching pressure.

Her panties were hidden away in his wardrobe. The thought made him begin to grow hard again and he shifted in his seat.

She opened the notebook and searched idly for the last page she’d read as she leaned against the ladder of the scaffolding. It looked innocent, unthinking, perhaps an unconscious recollection of her illicit activities in the night, but it made him suspicious once more. There was a perfectly good couch not three feet away, after all.

He sipped his cider in silence, watching her. She found her page and began to read, but frowned after a moment and tugged at the hem of her shirt, squirming slightly in a way that reminded him far too much of how she had writhed on her own hand in the dark of night. He had to cough slightly so he didn’t groan as his cock stood at attention for her yet again.

“Something wrong with your blouse?” he asked her when the tugging and squirming continued.

“Hmm?” she murmured as she looked up. Her face was filled with seemingly genuine surprise, but he wasn’t sure he bought it. She glanced down at her hand, tugging at her clothing, and smoothed the shirt again with an embarrassed smile. “Oh, yes. I think Vivienne’s tailor made it too small,” she admitted with a small shrug. Of course her words drew his attention to the way it hugged her lithe form, breasts outlined so tightly that he could just see the lines of her breast band under it. The matching trousers looked equally tight and he wondered if she was wearing anything under them. His ears burned. “I told the man I need to be able to move, but he wouldn’t listen. _Orlesians,_ ” she lamented, rolling her eyes. He summoned a small chuckle of sympathy, though he’d barely heard her words. She seemed satisfied with the interaction, however, and returned to the notebook in her hands. He continued to stare at her, the image of her writhing on the scaffolding overlaying his view of her in the tight blouse and trousers. His mind ran wild, images of himself slowly peeling away the too-tight cloth to feel her smooth skin, finally sinking his aching shaft, straining for her yet again and staining the inside of his trousers with precum, into her soft and giving body. He remembered her whispering and moaning his name and imagined her doing so as he thrust into her body. He would have liked to simply bend her over his desk and rut on her like an animal, almost too lost in lust to care that it was unworthy of his vhenan to be so base with her when they had yet to make love.

He wanted her so much it pained him, and not just in his cock. She was beautiful for more than just her looks; she was his vhenan, his heart beating outside his chest. She was his strength, his weakness. With one look she could lift him up or destroy him. They fought together like a dance, his magic flowing smoothly around her arrows. It was perhaps a strange thought, but he found her beautiful in the moment when he cast a barrier over her and her skin glimmered with the blue light of his magic. He was stronger when she was near. But he was also more vulnerable. And she was the only force in Thedas that could distract him from his purpose. For that reason he tried to keep his distance.

He did not delude himself with fantasies that he could bring her true happiness. He was unworthy of her, each lie he told and each omission burning in his throat and weighing heavily on his shoulders. He did not want to hide from her. He wanted to love her and he wanted her to accept him. All of him. He wanted to strip her slowly and worship her body with his mouth and hands. He wanted to bring her the most pleasure she’d ever felt before he even entered her body. He wanted to lavish her with attention, taste her hot, sweet sex. He wanted to swallow her pleasure as she screamed his name. He wanted to lay in the cradle of her luscious thighs and feed his length into her core and hear her sigh with relief as he filled her.

All these thoughts and images flowed through his mind, a sluggish river of heat and arousal, as she read his notes and he stared at her while slowly sipping the cider she’d brought him. He needed to relieve the pressure in his poor, abused testicles again.

She closed the book a few minutes later, having caught up to his most recent entry. She hummed, brows drawn low in thought as she sauntered towards him, her gait unconsciously seductive. He couldn’t help but wrap an arm around her waist and tug at her as she wandered close. She happened to be reaching out to put the notebook back on his desk where she’d found it and, in her surprise at being pulled sideways and off balance, it fell to the floor.

She chuckled at him as she allowed him to draw her down for another kiss, sighing and parting her lips for his greedy tongue. “So affectionate this morning, vhenan,” she breathed against his lips. She thrust her tongue into his mouth forcefully, just once, then withdrew. She smiled gently at him, no trace of the sinful angel who had writhed on the scaffolding apparent in her heated gaze. She turned and leaned down to pick up the fallen notebook, bending at the waist, and Solas gasped.

Her trousers were too tight, so tight that he could see everything through them. She was very clearly not wearing any panties and had just treated him to a luscious view of the outline of the folds of her sex. The fabric over her core was decidedly wet, far more than would be expected from her lack of underclothes; she was nearly as aroused this morning as he was.

Before he even knew what he was doing, his hand came to rest on one glorious cheek. She tensed and swallowed a moan as he pressed his thumb against the damp heat of her core. She straightened slowly, the notebook in her hand, and did not move away from his touch. He moved that single digit in tortuously slow circles, teasing them both, and her breath came faster.

“You knew,” he accused, his voice low and rough with lust.

“You doubted?” she asked over her shoulder, her voice also broken with desire. She subtly tilted her hips into his hand. He pressed his thumb harder into her.

“You seemed oblivious to my presence the entire time except for a single moment near the end,” he whispered.

“I could feel your eyes on me,” she revealed. “A physical weight like you were touching me.” He choked off his groan with a cough and she laughed breathlessly. “I went for a walk and saw you moving about in the rotunda,” she admitted. “I saw an opportunity and took it. I couldn’t sleep for thoughts of you. I went back and changed and when I returned you were upstairs. I couldn’t resist. I won’t apologize.”

“Do _not_ apologize,” he ground out between his teeth, pressing his thumb forcefully against her clit to make her gasp and throw her head back. Then he forced himself to remove his hand with a quick glance around to see if they’d been spotted. Remarkably, it seemed no one had noticed their little moment. She let out a breathless whine of disappointment at the loss of contact, but he shook himself. “We can’t. This is not the place,” he told her in a heated whisper. She looked over her shoulder at him, heat and need in her eyes, her white-blonde hair flowing down her back in alluring waves and begging him to wrap it in his fist as he slammed hilt-deep inside her.

“Then let’s find a place where we can,” she suggested softly. He coughed again and forced himself to shake his head.

“As much as I would enjoy that, vhenan,” he said, clenching his fists to keep his hands to himself, “we both have duties to attend to today. Josephine has a meeting scheduled for later this morning and you hold council with your advisors this afternoon, do you not?” She sighed heavily and pouted slightly, but didn’t seem offended to his vast relief.

“Fine,” she groused. “I’ll just be a minute before Josephine’s interview with more ambassadors. I need to… change.” She winked and his cock jumped. He knew she would be relieving some pressure once she was alone and the reminder of the view she’d gifted him last night nearly made him spontaneously orgasm.

“As you like,” he said. It was supposed to be cool and calm as he always was but instead the words were strangled and half an octave too high. She smirked at his lack of control and sauntered out of the rotunda. He laid his head on the cool wood of his desk and wondered if a person could die from arousal, for he surely would if he remained at her mercy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, three parts is the limit! I had a BUNCH of comments asking for more of this lol! Some seriously thirsty followers on tumblr... I love you all! :D

**Author's Note:**

> Haha, tumblr smut!
> 
> It was a prompt fill! Then someone asked me for part two because REASONS, so that's how chapter two happened! :D Enjoy!


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